Through the Looking Glass
by gaamatsu4dewin
Summary: Gaara and Shijima have been an item for a while, and suddenly an argument separates them permanently. Can he rediscover where his heart truly lies?


Gaara stared into the mirror on the bathroom wall, running a comb through his slightly damp, freshly trimmed red hair. He'd been wearing his hair smoothed down for a while in the same length, to appear more attractive to Shijima, but now it was a simple mockery, a jester's trick to taunt him with memories of their separation. He'd asked Kankurou to cut it into short layers that afternoon, figuring that something familiar from his past might be a comfort to him in the next few months, even if it was as insignificant as a hairstyle change.

His eyes watered, but he blinked the tears back, determined to overcome the pain with the strength of his usual stony poker face.

His face...

He stared more intensely into his reflection.

So...

Lonely.

And saddened by the ugly events of the past few days.

 _How have I gone backward by taking a step forward in life and considering marriage with Shijima? I've done nothing worthwhile as Kazekage, while I've been distracted by her charms. I must look like a fool to everyone._

His hand closed into a tight fist around his comb, the handle pressing an outline of its shape into his palm.

(Flashback)

 _"Poor thing... she's a country girl, right? An orphan living off of what little income she receives from missions. I think what you're doing for her, and for that orphanage, is very charitable of you, seeing as she's not hardly your equal..."_

(End Flashback)

The comb's handle finally snapped in two under the pressure of his strong grip.

 _How dare she speak that way about Matsuri in front of me! That is absolutely unacceptable! I could never marry a woman who did not respect my best friend!_

Then again, maybe she hadn't meant it as an insult, and as a high-end kunoichi herself, had been taught to only associate with people on the higher end of the social ladder.

Gaara tossed the comb into the trash, making a mental note to send a subordinate out to the store to buy another one in the morning. He picked up the hair dryer from the counter, turned it on, and flipped his head upside down for the first time in months to give his hair some extra volume.

Walking into his bedroom from the master bathroom, he sat on his bed and stared at the floor.

 _Matsuri..._

He glanced at the picture frame on his bedside table, the two people smiling brightly at him with their arms around each-other. She'd embraced him on impulse, and he'd instinctively hugged her back before he realized it.

The picture had been taken about five years ago, right after he'd promoted her to chuunin status. He remembered her exam with perfect detail and clarity; how he'd gone out to protect her even though he should have stayed at the tower and let his siblings handle it. How he had watched her with his third eye and stayed by her side for as long as he could, but had ordered her coldly to leave the scene. He thought in that moment that he would not be rescued, that he would die alone. Then before he knew it, she returned with Team Gai, desperate to save his life. He'd been so touched by her passion and earnestness afterward that he was left speechless as she expressed her relief. His chest had filled with pride as he spoke to her privately in his office a few days afterward, thanking her profusely and telling her that she had passed the exam.

And then he remembered her smile as he woke up from having Shukaku extracted, her arms flung tearfully around him once they were alone on the balcony of the Kazekage mansion.

They had gone out as friends before the omiai, and they had kissed each-other a few times as an experiment, but it had never really been serious or romantic. He had asked her for a real date once, but she had already made plans with some of her girlfriends that evening, and made a promise to go out with him some other night. After Shijima became his assistant, she began to avoid him like a disease, and constantly stole a glare in Shijima's direction when he wasn't looking.

 _She's... always liked me..._

 _And I..._

 _I don't know how I feel. I never considered it in depth before._

 _I know, at the very least, that I'm proud of her for coming so far in her career._

He smiled, and picked up the photo frame, running his fingertips over her face.

 _She is the most precious person to me._

 _She must be deeply hurt by all of this. I guess I hadn't thought about it. There wasn't time, in the midst of the coup d'etat disaster._

His smile disappeared into a frown.

 _I haven't seen her in a while. People say she walks around the village like a ghost nowadays. She seems to float lifelessly through the streets, only looking up to avoid obstacles, and to greet her friends with an obviously pretended air of contentment._

He stood up and began to pace impatiently, running a nervous hand through his crimson locks.

 _Why is it that my expression in this photo is different than the image I saw in the mirror a minute ago?_

 _I wasn't smiling, back there in the bathroom. But what else is missing?_

 _Why are we so depressed, she and I?_

 _What is it about losing love that makes humans lonely?_

 _We have it one day, and then the next, it's gone. It's cliché, but it's true no matter who you are. 'Your love will always be fluid and changing like the tides', or something like that._

 _It hurts like hell when it happens, and then the pain becomes no more than a whisper as time goes by and new people come into your life who care about you. Old friends are often reunited after times of misery._

 _If that's true, perhaps I should go and see her tomorrow. Maybe I'll feel better._

He froze suddenly, his chest beginning to ache deeply.

 _Wait._

 _Why is that, exactly?_

 _Why do I want that?_

 _Why?!_

Logic briefly calmed his heightened emotional state, supplying an obvious answer.

 _She's my best friend. That's all._

The pain in his chest increased, as if someone had reached into his chest and was squeezing his lungs with the intent on crushing them and ending his life. His heartbeat raced.

 _No._

 _This pain, it's..._

 _I've felt this way for her before, but could never identify it..._

 _I... I'm…._

Tears blurred his vision, and dripped down his cheeks in rivers.

 _I finally understand what's different about this picture!_

 _She's—!_

 _I've always—!_

 _I'm such an idiot!_

He wiped his face with a handkerchief from his pocket.

 _If I don't tell her now, I'll lose her forever!_

 _I—!_

 ** _I don't want that!_**

Panic and excitement overtook him. He changed hurriedly into his deep red overcoat and black pants and left the mansion, telling his brother shortly that he'd be out for a while.


End file.
